


#1 Sniper

by riavery



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: #1 Sniper, M/M, but if u guys like it i will do more, started this without the intent to ever finish it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riavery/pseuds/riavery
Summary: BLU Sniper was given a #2 Sniper mug from his team mates as a rather mean-hearted joke, meanwhile Spy schemes his scheme-yist scheme yet to steal a certain RED Sniper's #1 Sniper mug. For reasons.
Relationships: Implied mostly - Relationship, Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2), probably more later on - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	#1 Sniper

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so. I don't really write a lot of fanfics but I started this one years ago and kiiinda?? wanna see it through but we'll see. If you guys really like it I will probably continue. I'm hoping to add more implied relationships between the mercs and also some cutesy moments between Spy and Sniper bc I am WEAK for that ship. Thanks for reading tho! xoxo

Chapter 1/?  
  
  


"Is that new?"

  
"What?" BLU Sniper's eyes lift from the rim of his mug to RED Spy's face, an eyebrow drifting upward. Spy gestures towards his cup, chin dipping slightly. Sniper pulls the mug away from his lips, turning it in his hand to view it's front; the blue painted '#2 Sniper' coming into full view. 

"Oh, this?" Spy only nods in response. Sniper shrugs once, setting his mug back in it's usual spot on the crate in front of him. "All a' my other ones are dirty. It was a gift, sort of. Everyone thought it'd be funny. Apparently, RED's bushman's got somethin' similar. It was Spy's idea." He's referring to his own team's Spy, of course. Spy honestly isn't surprised the BLU would do such a thing; the few times he's been able to converse with the BLU assassin were almost always unpleasant.

Spy huffs once, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall adjacent to Sniper; one leg crossed as he sits. "Except his says #1 Sniper," Spy speaks, voice level, "he brandishes the thing every morning. One of his 'prized possessions', I'm sure. Not quite sure where it came from, but... He's had it for as long as I care to remember, which I don't."

"Figures." Sniper sniffs, flicking his own mug with an index finger. Spy's eyes hover on the other's face, lingering for longer than necessary. Sniper knows he's trying to get a read on him, but it isn't like Spy is trying to hide the action. 

Sniper sighs, sitting back. A hand lifts to his sunglasses, removing them so that his other hand can pinch at the bridge of his nose. One downside of sitting hunched over and squinting through a scope is he gets headaches, bad ones. This one is just starting. He'll need to visit Medic later for some pain reliever. The man keeps all of his medicine locked up tight, much to Sniper's dismay. He hates having to go straight to Medic for every little ache and pain he gets -- and he gets a lot.

"Your teammates are assholes." Spy speaks, breaking the silence.

"Yeah." Sniper nearly laughs as he replaces his sunglasses, eyes opening to stare at Spy through the tinted glass. "But so are yours." Sniper shakes his head, moving to take a sip of coffee from his mug. "But, just goes to show that BLU team is always gonna be second snuff to RED."

"Nonsense." Spy returns, that clear blue gaze fixating itself on Sniper's face. Sniper feels himself shrink under it, cheeks undoubtedly turning pink. "I have seen you do just as well as our Sniper; if not better some days."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, Spook. 'Specially when my teammates like t' constantly point out the opposite." Sniper sets his mug down again, starting to stand -- if only to stretch out his back. Spy follows suit, a bit of a formality on his part. He doesn't care to sit while other's stand, it seems rude. 

"You and I just agreed that your comrades are assholes, mon cher. So their opinions are invalid."

"Suppose I shouldn't bring up that less than a month ago, /you/ were an asshole too, Spook."

Spy opens his mouth as if to speak, before snapping it shut. He frowns, pursing his lips. 

"That's different." he says, quietly.

In one stride, Sniper closes the gap between the two of them; arms slipping around the RED's waist, pulling Spy closer. Spy doesn't resist, his own arms lifting to wrap around the other's neck. The action is familiar, something the two of them had become accustomed to over the past few weeks. At first, it was awkward; but endearingly so. Now, it's as natural as breathing. 

"You're right, it is." Sniper agrees quietly, resting a cheek against Spy's head. "You're different." Spy doesn't speak, only presses a gentle kiss to the side of Sniper's neck, inhaling deeply. Sniper pulls back, only to connect their lips together milliseconds later. The kiss is thankful, speaking to Spy in ways that Sniper can't manage with his words, and only lasts a few seconds before the Bushman pulls away, leaving Spy breathless. 

Spy resists the urge to follow after Sniper as he moves across the room to his coffee pot, a small, overused thing that's outlived it's shelf-life by many years. But, the fact that the other blatantly shows Spy his back speaks levels to him on how much the other has come to trust him. Still, he craves more attention, but knows now is not the right time. It's early morning, before their match, and Sniper's teammates will be getting up around now. Spy can't risk being around for much longer  
.  
"Cher."

"Hm?"

"I should leave." Spy always hates saying those words, and seeing the way Sniper's shoulders stiffen only made them hurt worse. They both know this is necessary, but it doesn't make it any easier. Spy looks away just as Sniper turns toward him, trying to hide any indication of his own discomfort. Maybe it is selfish of him, but Spy doesn't like to see the disappointment in those eyes; ones that always hold a warmth to them despite the cold color he bears. The terrible color that keeps them separated. He hears Sniper close the distance between the two of them and feels his arms around him again. Spy buries his face in the other's chest, neither of them speaking.  


The moment doesn't last long enough for Spy's taste, but he has to go now. He pulls back from Sniper before pressing a quick kiss to the other's cheek; his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than usual; wishing he could stay.

Parting ways, Spy slips under cloak just as he exits Sniper's room, returning quickly and quietly to his own room back at RED base. He readies himself for the day and makes it to the mess hall just as Soldier began screaming at them for role call. Everyone knows it's unnecessary, but they humor the man -- lest they end up being at the end of a verbal assault with a rage equivalent to that of a hurricane. Best to follow 'orders' and get to the mess hall as quickly as possible. The early bird gets the worm, as they say. Arrive too late and one ends up with leftovers.

Filing into the mess hall, Spy found himself third in line; just behind Heavy, who was piling immense amounts of food onto his plate. Nobody ever commented on Heavy's eating, the man is always a foot taller, and sometimes twice their size if not more. For Spy, three times his size is more accurate. Regardless, Heavy often carries the team in a match (having top scored way too many times for Spy to count) and as far as Spy is concerned, the man can eat as much as he very well pleases. He deserves it. Spy, on the other hand, chooses sparingly from the small assortments of breakfast foods. A croissant, some jam, one fried egg and a couple of sausage links. It will be enough to carry him through fight until half-time's lunch.

He finds his seat after retrieving a glass of orange juice, in his usual spot adjacent to Medic, who is, unsurprisingly, absent -- likely he took his food to go, eager to get back to work on whatever crazy experiment has taken his fancy this time. Best not to pry. He eats absently, unhearingly listening to Scout blabber on about baseball cards or something. His mind is elsewhere, though, drifting back to Sniper and their fleeting, but enjoyable, time together. It really isn't fair to Sniper that his teammates so often make fun of him for being second parr to RED'S Sniper. Spy knew for a fact that the BLU would be able to hold his own against their own bushman, but it seems not everyone thinks so.

To be given such a gift, jokingly even, is absurd. Sniper doesn't deserve to be the brunt of an ill-intentioned joke like that. Spy aught to twist the knife for good measure while he is out working today. His own, personal way of getting back at BLU for being so cruel to his Sniper. The man deserves a #1 Sniper mug of his own, perhaps Spy should get him one...?

Spy's train of thought comes crashing to a halt as Scout is pinned to the table by his throat, a red-faced Soldier yelling obscenities at the young man with a mouth frothing with anger. Despite being startled initially, Spy only huffs and rolls his eyes as Engineer works the american away from Scout; prying the man's hands from the kid's neck. Further down the table he hears Pyro scream with delight and Demoman laughs something to Heavy, but he doesn't bother listening. Instead he stands, having finished his food, and he places his dishes into the sink before turning to leave. It's Demoman's day to clean up, so he won't bother washing them. 

As he exits the mess hall he passes Sniper, who is late, as usual. Spy is almost always finished by the time the bushman joins the rest of them. Who knows what he does in the time span between role-call and breakfast but Spy honestly doesn't care enough to find out. He could, if he cared to, but he doesn't. What catches his eye this time, though, is that familiar mug in Sniper's hand. A cloud of steam rises past it brim, filled with bitter, unsweetened coffee. Spy never understood how the man could take his coffee black. But, regardless, every morning without fail, Sniper walks around with it -- that red-lettered #1 Sniper mug that the man adored so much. 

Spy only lets his eyes linger on the mug for a split-second as he passes, Sniper too busy eyeing the food -- or rather, what's left of it -- to notice. Normally, Spy would have left it at that; continued onto his room to have a cigarette and read the newspaper before the match starts, but today will be different, he decides, turning on his heel to head back to the dining room table. He ignores the feeling of the others' eyes on him, knowing the act of leaving -- but not leaving-- drew some attention.

"You hangin' around with us common folk today, Spy?" Engineer drawls from beside Soldier, who messily shovels food down his gullet. Spy resists the urge to grimace as he sits down once more, clasping his hands together in his lap.

"I'm afraid so," he returns coolly, looking sideways at the other's. Truly, he keeps his peripherals focused on Sniper, watching what he does with that mug of his. Spy was never curious enough to care until now, beginning to hatch a plan that may result in a certain BLU Sniper in custody of a very special #1 Sniper mug. 

"Well, guessin' we aughta count our blessin's then, ey fellas?" Engineer smacks Soldier's chest, who lifts his head to look at Spy, a piece of bacon hanging between greasy lips. "S'not too often we get Spy hangin' around us. There a special occasion or somethin'?"

"He's prolly just lonely," Scout pipes in, much to Spy's annoyance, leaning over the table to get a better look at the man. Scout holds a filled fork in one hand; his lips parted in a crooked smile. Spy ignores the piece of food stuck between his teeth. "He doesn't have any friends like I do."

"Would not call us friends," Heavy's voice rumbled, drawing Spy's attention to the massive man. 

"Aye, friends be people yae drink an' have a grand time with," Demoman continues before Heavy can speak further, if it annoys the giant, it doesn't show. He merely continues eating, his massive hand engulfing his fork. 

"Ey, we've drunk t'gether b'fore." Scout says, reaching past Heavy to smack Demoman on the arm.

"Drank, son. It's drank." Engineer corrects between a mouthful.

"Drunk, drank. Same, dif." Scout waves a hand dismissively before taking a bite of food.

"Aye, we've drank t'gether b'fore. But I wouldn'ae say it was a grand time." Demoman cuts off his words with a laugh, a hand slamming against the table. Pyro lets out a startled squeak from the other.

Scout pouts, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well? See if I drink wit you again, Demo..."

Childish. Spy pulls himself away from the conversation at this point, his part in it obviously long since passed. He lets his eyes wander back to Sniper, who just finished gathering as much food as he could find. He lets his gaze drop from the bushman, however, the moment he turns around and strides over to the table; dropping onto the bench beside Spy. They both sit in silence for a long while, neither of them feeling bothered enough to join in the other's conversation.  


"Not hungry?" Sniper's voice startles Spy, who's cheek rested on a closed fist.

"What?" Icey blue hues snap to Sniper's face questioningly, narrowing only slightly.

"You don't got any food. So, you're either not hungry or... I don't know."

"I already ate."

"Oh."

A few more moments of silence pass between the two of them, the conversation seemingly forgotten. Or, so Spy had thought.

"So, then why're you here?"

"You're awfully talkative today for somebody who does not speak often, monsieur Sniper. You finally get a good night's rest?"

There's only a slight change in the other's expression, Sniper lips tightening minutely. Spy sees it, though. He's too close to miss something so telling. That struck a nerve, but Sniper doesn't retaliate, only shrugs as takes a bite of food. Spy lets his eyes fall to the other's mug momentarily, before returning to Sniper's face.

"Do you ever wash that thing?" 

"What?"

Spy gestures towards Sniper's mug with his chin, "Your mug. I see you use it nearly everyday. Just wondering if you clean it before you fill it with that sludge you call coffee."

Sniper's jaw clenches slightly, his hand moving to take his mug and drink from it. He replaces it before he bothers to reply.

"I clean it every time I use it. What's it to you, anyway?"

"Just wondering if you keep your items as dirty as you keep your clothes." Spy quips, a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Rack off."

"Do you keep it in your room? I never see it in the kitchen sink."

"Bloody hell, you're full of questions today."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Yes, I do. Why's it matter to you?" Sniper is clearly growing irritated, but his apparent annoyance only furthered Spy's amusement. He has to try hard to keep the smile from his lips.

"Wouldn't want you dying of poisoning out on the battlefield because you can't properly clean something."

"Jesus Christ Spy, is it really any wonder people avoid you?" Sniper stands suddenly, abandoning his plate entirely -- food and all. "It's too early for this bullshit." Spy hears whispered under Sniper's breath as he grabs his mug and makes for the exit.

The other's words, as much as it pains Spy to admit, stung. It isn't a mystery that Spy is generally unpleasant around others. If confronted, he'd almost always answer 'I'm here to make money, not friends.' It's the truth. Or rather, /had/ been the truth; before he became 'involved' with BLU Sniper.

First it had been a strictly physical thing. Sex only. The two of them obviously found each other attractive, where was the harm in letting lose and relieving stress? And the thrill of getting caught only ever added to that. Spy's visits began to happen often, too often, now that he thinks back on it. He had nearly tripled their chance of being caught because of how reckless he had gotten with it. Nearly got caught twice by BLU's Medic, when he came to check on Sniper during a match one day. Spy had just found it increasingly hard to stay away from Sniper, knew that this had traveled well beyond just 'physical'. They both were more careful after that day. But it wasn't long after that Spy admitted his feelings to Sniper, who, thankfully, revealed he felt the same. Now, Spy visits Sniper every other morning and they only allow overnight stays once a month. Getting caught is something they both don't want. Best to play it safe and meet when they can than risk getting caught and never seeing each other again when they are killed permanently. Which, is what they both imagine will happen to them if they get caught.

Regardless, those stays have become something that Spy looks forward too -- a reason to keep going, despite how much his teammates seem to loathe him. Their opinions don't matter. Only his does. Which is why he's going through with this plan. As soon as the battle is underway, Spy will sneak into Sniper's room and steal his mug. If his plan works, he will be able to get into BLU base and swap out this mug, for the other, and be back in time for ceasefire. He'll admit seeing the look on Sniper's face once he realizes his precious mug is gone will be extremely pleasing. And he'll be none-the-wiser as to who took his cup. 

Easy, honestly. Spy could do such a switch in his sleep. All it takes is some patience and no small amount of sneaking. Both of which, Spy is well versed in.

  


He stands then, leaving Sniper's plate where it sits. He'll let Demoman get after Sniper for it later. Petty, maybe, but Spy doesn't care. He makes it halfway to the exit before the base is filled with that familiar tone of the Administrator, announcing a half hour until the match begins. Wonderful, that is plenty of time to grab a smoke and read the headlines.  


With a pleased smile, Spy returns to his smoking room until the match begins.


End file.
